Page 2 of Sherry and Sunflowers
Alara gripped the door handle tightly.
"I do. I did. I like it here best. But I know we have to leave soon."
Charles sputtered a little before he asked, "But why?"
"Because Mom's working here and soon it will end and then she'll need to find another work to do."
Alara's shoulders sagged. It had been the story of her life since just after Zia was born. She tried to make it seem like their lifewas a big adventure, but sometimes… sometimes, she wished she could give her daughter the kind of stability a six-year-old probably needed.
"She doesn't have to find another work—another job," said Charles. "She works here now."
"I know, but when you have your new wine labels and pretty pictures the work will be done. Then we'll have to go." Zia spoke slowly, trying to explain it simply, as if Charles wasn't quite getting the idea.
"But we can find other work for her. Here, right here," Charles insisted.
"I hope so. No, don't put that one there—the daisies can't see the light with that one there."
"Sorry."
"That's okay. You weren't paying attention because you want us to stay, don't you?"
Alara leaned in.
"I do. And I intend to do everything in my power to make sure that you will."
Alara tensed, but then let it go, feeling a little foolish when he added, "I mean, as long as you both want to stay, I'll do everything to make sure that you can."
"I know. Do you think they need glitter on them now?"
Charles's chuckle was full of exasperated affection—his home and the whole estate would no doubt sparkle with the remains of Zia's glitter for years. "I think they do. And then should we see about some lemonade?"
"We should, Sir Grandpa. I would like that."
Alara loved the mock formal tone she used with Charles. She sometimes worried that he might think she was mimicking or mocking him. In truth, it was a tone she'd picked up from the fairytales Alara read to her—before either of them ever suspected that they might one day meet a true old-fashioned gentleman and be invited to stay at his 'castle.'
When she heard a chair scrape against the floor, she straightened up quickly. She needed to go in before they came out and realized she was here. She'd hate for Charles to think that she'd been listening to them. She had, of course, but she hadn't meant to.
She tapped lightly on the door before pushing it open.
"Come in," called Charles.
"Hi. I'm sorry, I…"
"Mommy! Look! Grandpa Grape did his own flower vase! Didn't he do a good job?"
She had to smile at the ornate vase that was probably worth a fortune sitting in the middle of Charles's desk, displaying its very tastefully arranged bunch of daisies and dandelions, which she could see had been liberally sprinkled with Zia's glitter.
"You did," she told Charles. "I'm impressed. I'm sorry I took so long. I …"
"You've been sleeping," Zia announced. She smiled at Charles. "It's easy to tell when she's been sleeping, she gets smudgy eyes."
Alara swiped her thumbs under her eyes, feeling self-conscious. "I didn't mean to …"
Charles met her gaze. "I'm glad you were able to rest. I keep telling you that your top priority, the most important work you can do at the moment, is getting well. I wish you'd rest more."
Guilt gnawed at her insides. He was so kind, she owed him so much, and he kept insisting that her health was his greatest concern. It wasn't fair to him, no matter what he might say. She needed to earn her keep.
She knew there was no point in arguing with him. Instead, she held her hand out to Zia. "Thank you. I'm well rested enough to get some work done for the rest of the afternoon. Come on, Z. You can come and help."
